


At The Intersection of Gauche and Obtuse

by Sushi4Brains



Category: Naruto
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-29 20:00:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 19,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10861050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sushi4Brains/pseuds/Sushi4Brains
Summary: A thirst for knowledge drives one; the need for redemption compels the other.A change of heart, the fickle of fate flings them together …at the intersection of Gauche and Obtuse will they collide.  For both men, the boundaries of appropriateness are foreign concepts and tact is their common enemy.  To comprehend the power and necessity of bonds, one young man, exacting, deadly and dull as dishwater, will seek guidance from a man as socially maladroit as he.  Come, let us gaze on this train wreck of humanity as Kakashi, Yamato and Sai engage in team building exercises not endorsed by regular shinobi training manuals.





	1. And So It Begins

**Author's Note:**

> Follows alongside canon for most of the journey before diving over a cliff. For the purposes of this tale, Naruto and Sakura are eighteen years of age, Sai is nineteen.

Beneath him, Gai was a man possessed.

His movements, unpredictable, full of urgency; given what they’d been through, his passion understandable and welcome.  Having spent what felt like days wrapped around Gai’s midsection, his thighs chafed and burned, each upward stroke rattled his teeth in their sockets. Echoes of pain rocketed up his back, zigzagged down his legs and stung at the tips of his curled fingers with every downward stroke.  

 _Always envied his stamina ... never been more grateful for it than I am now,_ he thought. _Wouldn’t be in this position though had I not been so damn needy._ His arms, tight around that thick neck, his hips grinding into the small of Gai’s back. _Too weak, couldn't refuse him ... damn this willing body of his!_

It was a wild ride spent in tears.

Happy ones for the brawny man under him though salty tracks of irritation belonged to Kakashi alone.  Devoid of strength to pull down the hitate, every blink exposed the Sharingan; images of muscled shoulders and the crown of Gai’s head would forever haunt his dreams.  The sensation of a strong back pressed against his chest, the smell of parched air in coarse bluish black hair, the sound of Gai’s rhythmic grunts as their bodies collided, now part of his memories for all eternity.  

What was to be an affirmation of trust, would form the basis for challenges of loyalty and endurance in the months to come.

 For the ragged, crescent shaped indentations left all over the other man’s chest, abdomen and throat would he later apologize.   _Nope, that won’t work either._

  _‘Think nothing of it!’_ Gai would say.  ‘ _It is what friends do for one another.  Besides, who knows how to relieve the stress of your body better than I, your eternal rival?’_

 He cringed, pushing the thought from his mind; remaining attached to the green beast as they neared the finish line required every whit of his concentration.

The end was near … they both knew it;

twelve miles inside Konoha’s lush forests with another six miles to go before reaching the main gate of the village. The loud protests of their teams finally brought Gai to halt, grudgingly caving into their demands for rest and rehydration.

He’s gingerly lowered to the ground, his back propped against the trunk of a massive oak.  Sitting shoulder to shoulder with his old friend, watching the youngsters share meager rations and listening without laughing as they retold tall tales of valor, a driblet of nostalgia swelled in his chest.  Soon, they’d stagger through those gates in the distance . . . exhausted, banged up, stronger for what they’d experienced, wiser about the world around them.


	2. Intersection

Intersection: (mathematical) - the set of elements that two or more sets have in common.

An allied nation’s request for assistance - recovery of their abducted leader, should have gone straight to ANBU; it was their bailiwick after all, especially because of Akatsuki’s rumored involvement.  But no, it was reclassified a B-rank and pawned off on a three-man cell – that’s how they ended up in this predicament.  

 _Bureaucratic fools,_ he hazily thought as Gai shifted beside him.

No sooner than they set foot on Suna’s dunes the mission parameters crumbled like a rusty corkscrew through balsa wood. For veterans like him and Gai, this sort of thing was old hat, yet it gave him a means of measuring the growth and resilience of his team.  From inhospitable desert environs, to the fertile plains of the Land of Rivers, Naruto and Sakura conducted themselves admirably.

_Who’d a thunk it?_

_Progeny of my sensei, sole survivor of the Uchiha massacre and a scrawny, insecure little girl from a civilian family … my team. Damn kids … ganged up on me, I was hoodwinked._ He launched a pebble in midair with his fingers thinking _, Little buggers.  Made me care about ‘em … made me wanna protect ‘em outside of missions._

_And then one day … they were gone._

_Naruto and Sakura went to train with two of the Sannin; Sasuke slunk off, embracing the promise of power offered by the third--_  

 “You’re thinking too loudly my rival,” Gai said as he shoved a ration bar under his nose.  “Something you wish to discuss?”

“Nah, just need to stretch my legs.”

“Here … let me help--”

“Gai … that was my polite way of saying I need to take a piss,” he said rising unsteadily. “Fairly certain I can handle that myself.”

“Well if you’re gone too long, I will come looking for you.”

He rolled his eyes as he stood. _Great … now he’s my piss monitor._   Cutting through the thick undergrowth gave him something else to concentrate on and as usual, his thoughts gravitated to the new Team Kakashi, the old Squad Seven, minus one; erstwhile _students ..._ turned comrades. No matter how hard he tried not to, he always saw glimmers of Team Minato in those three knuckleheads.  Uchiha Obito, the loud blunderbuss with big dreams was a dark-haired version of Uzumaki Naruto; Nohara Rin, team medic and peacekeeper, a softer spoken, less violent duplicate of Haruno Sakura. And then there was Sasuke, a young man traumatized by great loss early in life, a prodigy with natural talent and a bad attitude – a dolorous reflection of himself.

It always amazed him, the way their hearts had intertwined without him realizing it, the way his faith in them grew … the way his heart shattered into pieces when one by one, they walked away from him.  Sure, he’d overlooked Naruto and Sakura’s delitescent skills -  back then, it was easier to identify with their glum, sarcastic team mate.  Even if he’d paid more attention to the other two, he lacked the means to draw out their talents or the motivation required to nurture them.

He shook his head to clear away thoughts of the past; everything was different now.

He was proud of how they’d grown; a new generation of ambassadors for the Leaf Village.  Nonetheless, forging relationships with them as peers would take getting used to.  Though they understood the depths men would plumb for status or power, they were still naïve, believing there was redemption for the black hearted.  They were too young for inclusion in his circle of friends, too immature to handle glimpses inside his dark past and too inexperienced to act as advisors or counselors to him.  

But this last mission shook everybody to their foundations; challenged their beliefs and rearranged truths they thought they knew of themselves.

For Naruto, it was a personal challenge.

The only person to that point who understood the isolation and experienced the hatred because of the monsters sealed inside their bodies was snatched away during a daring raid on the Hidden Sand village. 

Gaara, the Kazekage,

Gaara, his friend,

Gaara, the seemingly invincible … defeated;

his ultimate defense, breached … his body, spirited away.

The pain clouding Naruto’s bright blue eyes when confronted with the remains of his friend – the moment in time when life’s fragility draped itself over the boy like a pall, was heartbreaking to witness.

Then came a spark of fear in those bright eyes –

the very real fear that he, Naruto and his village, Konoha, might become the next targets of the Akatsuki.

Then came the rage; feral and justified.

For Sakura, it was a professional challenge; the penultimate test of her skills as a medic and shinobi.

When Gaara’s elder brother hovered between life and death and Suna’s medical corps were seconds away from giving up on him, she boldly stepped forward.  Utilizing their primitive facilities and equipment, she dug in her heels, leaned back and spit in the face of death.  When cornered by a ruthless foe, Sasori of the Red Sand . . . a master puppeteer and long range fighter, her strategic and tactical skills came to the fore.  Her speed, fortitude and monster strength combined with the skills of Lady Chiyo, also a puppet master, meant their victory was definitive and bittersweet.  For Lady Chiyo, it was a devastating loss. Sasori … her beloved grandchild, lay dead because of her handiwork.

He peeled away the mask to spit as he leaned against a tree.

 _Medics_. _Trained to save lives. They always have a hard time dealing with regret and self-reproach when they’re forced to take a life._

Grief, disappointment, loss, these things were part of shinobi life – adversaries he couldn’t shield them from nor defend them against.  Despite himself, Kakashi was determined to stay the course this time, to wait and watch over them . . . hoping they wouldn’t repeat the same mistakes he’d made.

When he returned to the clearing, the small group was gathering up their belongings.

“Excellent timing, Kakashi! Let us be off ... we must deliver our report to the Hokage without further delay.”

Hefted onto that broad frame without another word, his long arms tightly wrapped around Gai’s neck, his knees were squashed beneath sweaty armpits, as Gai took off running toward the village gates.

Their entrance into Konoha was more comical than triumphant, if the quizzical stares of bug eyed civilians and the knee-slapping ripostes of fellow shinobi were anything to go by.  Kakashi would have laughed too, if every fiber of his being weren’t screaming in agony.

Still he took it in stride ...they were home at last.

And as they drew closer to the Hokage tower, he was thankful for two things more -- Lady Tsunade and her gut instincts.  If she hadn’t dispatched Team Gai, this might have been an entirely different homecoming for him.  His battered body would recover and his bruised ego would survive this latest indignity courtesy of the rejoicing Maito Gai . . . eventually.   With that in mind, he offered up a whispered word of thanks to Bishamonten.

The last thing he remembered was cursing his body’s inability to move away when the back of Gai’s head jerked toward his face.

 

And then . . . everything went black.

NOTES:

Dolorous: grievous, mournful.

Delitescent: concealed, hidden or latent.

Bishamonten or Tamonten: the god of fortunate warriors and guards, as well as the punisher of criminals.

 


	3. Perpendicular Lines

Perpendicular lines:  Intersecting lines that are at right angles to each other.

 

Line A: That boy from Root

Rubber soles on hardwood floors fall into an unrehearsed cadence; along narrow torch lit passageways, shadows bunny hop over lacquered masks, dissolving inside the black wool of their cloaks. Into the brightly lit armory they march single file; each man rendering an account of the weapons remaining from this last mission in low clipped tones. Practiced hands pat down their bodies, searching for undeclared contraband; one by one, they strip naked - their discarded clothing, gobbled up in the roaring flames of a waiting incinerator.   

From there to the infirmary for a thorough physical exam and cavity search; on to the decontamination showers, where blankets of rising steam mute harsh overhead lights. Stiff bristled brushes scour their bodies from head to toe with a retch inducing mix of antimicrobial and antibacterial agents.  The same long handled brushes shepherd them into and hold them captive under oven-like waterfalls.

Pronounced clean at last, each man is issued a new uniform, a toiletry kit, one bedsheet and a wafer-thin blanket.  Their final stop, the place they’ll call home for the next few weeks; a windowless, 6x8 individual holding cell with unadorned clay walls, one chair and a writing table.  A hard canvas cot sits in the center of the room and a combination steel sink and commode is anchored into the far wall.  

Here, every move they make, every action they take is scrutinized; their sleep/wake cycles meticulously annotated, even the amounts and types of food they ingest are recorded in their personnel files.  Each man is allowed one or two recreational items prior to confinement; either reading or writing materials, a radio or a phonograph and records.  The last squad member to enter his cell was given no choice whatsoever.  By Lord Danzou’s decree, the dark haired, pale skinned young man receives a sketch pad, a package of colorful charcoals, an easel, brushes and water based paints.

Such was post mission life inside Konoha’s Root Division.

Line B: Kakashi:

Post mission rituals … always the same.  

With a pained shrug, the heavy backpack would fall from weary shoulders and land with a thud in the genkan beside mud caked sandals. He’d take a moment to peel away sticky leather gloves and breathe in the welcome scents of home.  Next, he’d lay down a wavy trail in the thin coating of dust on the breakfront on his staggering march to the bathroom.

Any weaponry or scrolls remaining in his flak vest, found their places on the table outside the bathroom, his outer clothing hung on designated hooks above another small table.  Once the cool tiles were underfoot and the bright lights shone over the medicine cabinet, his body always relaxed a mite. He'd kill a little time cataloging the newest gouges and bruises while the rumble and groan of temperamental plumbing subsided and yellowish brown water forced its way through a calcium encrusted shower head.

From scalp to soles, sudsy wintergreen scented spears would pierce through layers of grime and sweat leaving his skin atingle, minor abrasions depurated and aching muscles soothed.  Once the body was cleansed, the sullying of his soul would commence; it was as if every pore in his body would simultaneously open, allowing anamneses to sink bone deep.  Every misstep he’d made, every opportunity he’d forfeited became food for ravenous mental demons which would deprive his body of needed rest.

The longer the mission,

the greater the weight of disappointment...

the shorter the interval between one memory and the next.

That was another part of the post mission ritual which never varied.

Such was the downside of photographic recall.

This time, he didn’t remember moving from bathroom to bedroom as crisp line dried sheets rose past his waist and up to the middle of his chest. Even with a firm mattress beneath him, it felt as if he were falling into a void. Somewhere on the fringes of consciousness, he heard muddled voices, felt the displacement of air, as if someone or something was swiftly moving about him.  Impossible of course, for he was locked away, here in the dusty stillness of his apartment.  

 _Probably just Gai taking care of things,_ he thought. One more aspect of his post mission routine that never changed. Gai would noisily sneak in, partially stock refrigerator and cupboards, water the plants and generally make sure he was still breathing.

 _When I’m this tired, everything around me seems suspect_.   _Too keyed up … sleep won’t come naturally. So, I can either fritter away the time playing the ‘should’ve, would’ve, didn’t’ game or I can put this photographic recall to better use._

With the words of Icha Icha at the ready, he’d relax the mind; with the powerful imagery which flowed from Jiraiya's pen, and a quick yank, he’d dirty the sheets while comforting the body.

 _Take that insomnolence,_ he thought with a smirk.

 NOTES:

Depurate: to make or become free from impurities.

Sully: to soil, stain or tarnish.

Anamnesis: recollection or remembrance of the past.

Insomnolence: sleeplessness, insomnia.

 


	4. Intersection 1.1

Intersection (scientific): The point or set of points where one line, surface, or solid crosses another.

 _Better pace myself,_ he thought.

But not ten minutes in, his limbs were like molten lead and not in a good way.   The last chapter of the Icha Icha series ended with the hero fighting for the honor of his one true love.  The newest installment began with the hero left for dead in the forest.   A kindly hunter scooped him up, delivering the battered man to a small hospital where four nubile nurses took turns attending him.  

_Yeah… that’s a good place to start._

Pages 38-39 unfold before his mind’s eye where the nurses meet up, each hoping to give the protagonist a hot sponge bath. Their discussion devolves into debate and debate gives way to a foot stomping, hair pulling, uniform ripping scuffle. _Check._  

Page 41: A few curt words from the rest broken man in the hospital bed ends their fight and the four scantily clad young women line up at his bedside for a lecture.  Shamefaced and blushing prettily, their dainty hands failing to conceal their bounteous charms.   _Check._

Pages 42-43: The most senior of the group, twenty-five years old if she was a day, tall, brunette, with pale violet eyes leans down and whispers:

_‘Please sir, the charge nurse is very strict.  She’s from the old school… carries around a thin hickory paddle to reward misdeeds on the spot.’_

Pushing aside the others, the shorter, more excitable of the quartet added, _‘We beg of you, kind sir … do not report our deviation from protocol. It would be doubly shameful if she punished us in front of you.’_

Page 44, beginning with paragraph two -- one of his favorites, wherein a four-part harmony of eager promises falls from their pouting lips -

 _‘We’ll do whatever you ask of us sir,’_ they say _._

Through the eyes of the central character, Kakashi watches the curvaceous vixens - who coincidentally, are bisexual nymphomaniacs, lovingly tend the wounds inflicted on their fellow healers.  He licks at his lips as their ministrations switch from professional medical attention to hot and heavy caresses and kisses.

_Check, check and oh my god … check!_

Suddenly, not four but six chakra signatures ping back against his and the pungent smell of disinfectant wafts around him.  This irritation he gladly ignored, looking forward to the miscellany of sexual mischief which soon will spread itself before his hungry eyes.  At the same time as the half-naked ladies are peeling off the hero’s underpants in the book, Kakashi felt a familiar rush of blood draining from the crown of his head, rising from the soles of his feet and settling in his loins.

_Now that's what I call descriptive writing!_

The cooled air of the room blows softly over his forehead and chest as he thought to inch one hand toward the waistband of his sleep pants and the other to his mask.  However, the moment he attempted either action, his arms were oddly unresponsive, in fact, all his limbs were uncooperative, as if someone had purposely tied --

_Don’t remember reading this part before._

_No matter,_ he smirked. _Bondage … kinky._

Turns out he was trussed up rather well … too well for his liking; bindings so tight, every breath singed his lungs and every heartbeat sounded like a kettledrum inside his head. He lay motionless until a soft warm hand caressed his wrist.  

Curiosity, the undoing of many a great ninja got the better of him. Slowly his eyelid fluttered open.  

The first thing he saw was an otherwise unremarkable water stained ceiling above him.

_Okay … either my imagination is getting better or I really am in a hospital.  Nah … that’s impossible._

Familiar chakra signatures oscillate in friendly intent nearby - bright overhead lights have him squinting as he tries to assign faces to the fuzzily wavering images. Out of nowhere, a mountainous blob of green blocks his view.

_Oh, dear god no!  It can’t be--_

“Kakashi,” shouts the indistinguishable mass. “Kakashi! Can you hear me?”

_Damn it Gai!_

_You had one job.  ‘Take me home,’ I said._

_How could you do this to me?_

As his vision slowly improves, the quartet of lovelies he’d seen minutes before, morphs into a quintet; Neji, Tenten, Rock Lee, Sakura and Naruto – each of them staring back at him with hopeful smiles. As for the comely nurse caressing his wrist, turns out, _she_ was a stern faced, sweaty palmed, _male_ medic checking his pulse and recording his vital signs.

_Crap!_

“Thank goodness,” bellowed Gai. “You’ve awakened at last!”

 _Yeah ... whoop de freakin’ do!_ Wouldn’t be the first time his well-meaning rival brought an Icha Icha interlude to a screeching halt; he’d deal with him later.  How to hide or explain away a waking hard on to the observant Sakura or the embarrassed Tenten was the greater question.  Mercifully, Gai turned himself about, diverting attention from Kakashi’s rapidly deflating ‘condition’ as he boasted,

“Did I not say my Noble and Most Esteemed Rival would rouse himself at the sound of my voice?”

Kakashi cast a churlish glare at the other man’s back as he stood triumphant, his fists at his hips and flak vest pushed to either side, basking in the imaginary glory of his team.

“Please, my youthful compatriots ... do not gawk at my rival with eyes of pity.  His recuperative powers are no match for my own, that is true, but Hatake Kakashi is still worthy of your admiration.”

It was irrational, yes, but once more he cursed that damned photographic memory, his friendship with Gai and ultimately Jiraiya's writings ... though he quickly recanted that last one. As the mountain of green blathered on, he had to laugh, for from the corner of his eye he saw Tenten mouthing the words:

_“Sorry, Kakashi sensei . . . you know what he’s like.”_

Meanwhile, Neji was inching closer to the exit, as Rock Lee, rooted to his spot, his mouth and eyes wide open, drank in Gai’s every word. When the bombastic beast swiveled about again, his meaty hand landed on the bed’s headboard with enough force to splinter the plastic.

“Be of good cheer Kakashi,” he said, “for I, Konoha’s Green Beast of Prey shall remain at your side, night and day, encouraging you back to health.”

Rolling his eye at such a declaration of unwavering and unwanted companionship required finer motor skills than he possessed; instead from his throat dry and scratchy, issued forth a gravelly grunt.  

If he could have, he would’ve cheered as the door to the room slid open and in breezed the Hokage.

'A _n act of supreme recklessness'_ … "that’s what I wrote in your medical chart,” she snapped.  “What the hell were you thinking, Kakashi?”

The intention of sitting up, flatly denied by the contrary whims of his body. “Well, ma’am,” he huffed, “you see . . . I was--”

“Yes, yes, protecting your comrades … I heard all about it.”  In one swift motion, she leaned down and pulled the covers up to his chin. “Sorry about those ...  you were combative when Gai brought you in.”  Even as she fussed, a thread of her chakra loosened the restraints about his chest and legs.  “Overuse of that new Mangekyo Sharingan weakened your chakra pathways.  If Gai hadn’t rushed you here when he did ... well - hold still now.”  Her cool palm rested across his forehead as soothing chakra coursed through his body. “He saved your life … again,” she whispered. “Now I have to save what’s left of your sanity.”   Turning about she said, “The good news is, he’ll be fine after a week of bed rest.  Unfortunately, that means no visitors allowed.”

“Of course, Lady Tsunade ...  but your medics, skilled as they are, do not know how to motivate my rival that he might spring from his bed of affliction to--”

“Somehow, I think we’ll manage Gai.  Everyone, thank you for your hard work, take a few days rest and--”

“But … Tsunade-sama,” the crestfallen Gai insisted, “My rival needs--”

“What he needs is undisturbed rest.  Shizune…explain the meaning of ‘no visitors allowed’ as you escort Gai and everyone else to the exit.”  

Turning back to Kakashi, her finger rested atop his parted lips.  “Yes, you owe me big time and before you ask ... the answer is no.  I won’t discharge you before the week is out, so save your breath.”

 _All in all, he_ thought as the door slid closed behind them, _this is a sentence I can live with._ A week of quiet with nothing to do but sleep and eat, ranked a close second to relaxing with one of Jiraiya's books – all right, maybe a distant second.

 


	5. Congruent Angles

Congruent Angles (geometry): have the same angle in degree or radians, that’s all.  They don’t have to point in the same direction, or be on similar sized lines … just have the same angle.

 

"To sleep, perchance to dream-

ay, there's the rub."

William Shakespeare – Hamlet

 

He was falling …

struggling against a thick ochroid mist, the one that always grabbed him by the ankles and yanked him backward into memories of a childhood life in the Foundation couldn’t erase.  This time, he was hovering above a crowded room inside Konoha’s orphanage where in a murky corner, sat a traumatized dark haired little boy. His face and hands dirty, the child easily blended into the shadows.  Thinking him too afraid or too stubborn to speak, the civilian volunteers assumed he suffered from shock, as did everyone else in the aftermath of the Nine-Tails attack.   Rebuilding the village and burying the dead were priorities, leaving insufficient time or personnel to assess anything other than the boy’s basic needs.  They smiled kindly at him, treated him equitably and promptly forgot about him.  

His only companions, the squiggly lines drawn on scraps of paper he kept tucked under his pillow.

Each day ... the same as the last – fed, bathed and alongside the others, trotted out before potential adoptive families; none however, wanted to take in the sickly-looking child.  Until one day, when a stern faced old man shuffled into the orphanage.  

From the way the civilians regarded his presence, this man was someone important, though he looked so helpless; his head wrapped in bandages, one arm bound to his chest in a sling and the other hand gripped about the flat head of a walking stick. “That one, hiding in the corner,” the old man said, “I’ll take him too.”

“But Danzou-sama … he’s so … so frail … of what use--”

“My dear woman,” the wizened man replied as he walked through the assembled crowd, “all lives have purpose.  What is his name?”

“We have no idea, sir … found him wandering in the rubble days after the Kyuubi – the only two words he’s spoken since were ‘kachan’ and ‘tochan.’  With all due respect, I must insist you consider another child.”

“Nonsense, his body can be trained and his mind educated.  Bring him to me.”

Imitating what he’d seen the other adults do, the child bowed before the elderly man.

“My name is Shimura Danzou, do you have a name little one?”   He huffed out a laugh when the bold child hoisted himself to a standing position using the lower half of the walking stick.  Soon the man was on his knees, establishing eye contact and waiting patiently as the child ran curious fingers over the bandages.

“I have need of someone as fearless and observant as you,” he said.  “Would you like to be part of my family?”

Joggled awake when the cell door creaked open, he leapt from the cot, his arm automatically stretching across his body, his hand reaching for a weapon that wasn’t there.

“You,” the man in the tortoise mask said. “Lord Danzou wants your report.  Follow me.”  

“Yes sir.” Hastily wiping smudges of charcoal from his fingertips, the young man cast a backward glance at his unfinished work on the easel.

In silence, they make their way through the winding corridors.

The moment he arrives at the master’s private chamber, the door slides open and he’s pulled inside.  

Everything was as he remembered.

Flickering candle and torch lights give the room an ethereal amber glow, a washbasin, filled with warm scented water sits inside the entrance; thick white towels neatly folded beside it.  As he steps out of his sandals, an attendant is instantly at his side -  without a word, he’s pushed down into a seated position on the steps; his feet washed, dried and soft slippers tied in place.  The smell of incense swirls about him as he takes in the lay of the space.   There in the center of the room, was a low table spread with hot, tasty smelling dishes and tatami mats indicating the number of expected guests; there were only two.  

Off to the left side of the room, a plush couch, beside it stood an easel with a blank canvas.  Less than a foot away was a tall three-legged stool where the master's violin rested on a silk covered pillow.  At the sound of the walking stick striking the wooden floor, he turns. Soon will his master enter from behind an ornately carved screen.  His hands automatically slide down the front of his thighs, the tips of his fingers grazing his kneecaps as he bows his head and body in respect.  The smell of pipe tobacco, woven into the fabric of master’s clothing becomes stronger as he draws near.

“The table is set,” Lord Danzou says.  “Join me, won’t you?”

Kneeling at the appointed place, he kept his eyes lowered as steaming tea pours into the cup at his right hand - behind them, the door slides closed as the attendant exits.

“Another successful mission … well done, my boy. Once again, you've surpassed those in your age group, in stealth, intelligence and strength.”

“Thank you, Danzou-sama.”

The master serves him, studying his every move as he eats and drinks; meal time passes in silence until master excuses himself from the table.

“I’ve learned a new piece in your absence,” he said settling the violin under his chin.  “Come, take your place at the easel, we have much to discuss.”

Lord Danzou believed enjoyment of one art form stirred the creative juices, inspiring other forms of art.  The young man at the easel never understood the correlation, though the music did seem to pull more intricate paintings from his brush.

Over the haunting strains of the violin his master said, “It won’t be long before Akatsuki shows up in Konoha for the Nine-Tails. When that time comes, we must act quickly, bringing about revolution.  We must be ready to seize control as the current administration will ultimately prove itself ill prepared to protect the village.”

“I understand, sir.”

“This tailed beast …  it’s valuable to the Akatsuki and unlike it was in Suna, the Foundation will protect the jinchuriki.  I haven’t determined the extent of your involvement; however, you figure prominently in my plans.  To that end, I’ve selected a new code name for you … from this moment on, you will be known as

Sai.”


	6. Corresponding Angles

Corresponding Angles: angles in the same position on each line.

 

The first time Kakashi heard about ‘this kid’ from the Foundation, he was still tethered to his hospital bed by an intravenous drip and juiced up on some damn good painkillers. Aroused from another of his naps, he’s taken aback to see two of the Sannin and an old acquaintance huddled together in hushed conversation.

 _Okay, Lady Tsunade’s here to check on me,_ his sleep dulled mind registered. _Jiraiya tagged along ... probably wants to shoot the breeze.  Haven’t seen Tenzou in years … the hell’s he doing here?_ As he stirred, Jiraiya slipped away from the others, taking a seat at the windowsill; his arms folded over his chest, he quietly scanned the streets below.

_Hell! A somber Jiraiya means bad news._

Lady Tsunade paced about, chewing at her thumbnail and muttering to herself.  _Shit, she’s pissed; that’s never a good thing to wake up to._ Standing on the other side of the room, Tenzou had one of those serene, wan smiles plastered on his lips.   _Something weird is going on with him too_. “Ma’am,” he said warily, “what’s wrong?”

She made another half circuit around the room before answering.   “Your team has a new mission Kakashi and a new member.”

_Alright … that explains Tenzou’s presence._

In a flash, she’d gone back to pacing again, forcing Kakashi to follow the sound of her voice as she strode the length and breadth of the room.  

“Shitheads hogtied me into this,” she muttered. “Low on manpower, short on time … I didn’t have a choice!  One of Danzou’s subordinates, he’ll be the fourth man on the team. As a reward for defeating him, Sasori gave Sakura details about a meeting with one of his spies working for Orochimaru.”  Whirling about mid-step, she cast a furtive glance Jiraiya's way and then to Tenzou. “Team Kakashi’s new mission is to rendezvous with the spy and bring him back to the village for questioning.”

“Once T&I gets finished with him, we can shore up our defenses in case the Akatsuki is planning an attack,” Jiraiya said at last.

“If we’re lucky,” Tsunade added, “we might get some idea of Uchiha Sasuke’s whereabouts as well.”

Everyone present knew this was a trap, yet no one dared say it aloud.

  _Those kids,_ Kakashi thought, _they aren’t ready for the consequences of capture or torture if things go south._   _I don’t think I can handle the loss of three more comrades._

One thing we’re sure of,” Jiraiya said when he turned from the window, “the Akatsuki is on a jinchuriki hunt, that’s why they went after Gaara.”

“Yeah, found that out the hard way,” he grunted levering himself upright. “Lady Tsunade, I’m not sure about this, we’d be sending Naruto out in the open . . . like bait--”

“Don’t you think I know that!  If he finds out about this mission and I don’t let him go, keeping him locked up in the village would be just as dangerous.  If he thinks there’s a chance to bring Sasuke home, he’ll go AWOL; it’s better if I send him out with a team to protect him.  That said, they’ll deploy within the hour.   Your former kohai over there, I’ve code named him ‘Yamato’ … he’ll serve as interim captain.”

‘Yamato’ smiled and curtly bowed.  “Working with any squad you’ve trained is a great honor, Kakashi-senpai.”

 _That’s a relief,_ he thought. _But leaving in an hour? Not enough time to help him understand the personalities and skills of my -- err the team’s permanent members._

“And as soon as this mission’s complete,” Tsunade said, “this character … ‘Sai’ or whatever the hell his name is, will return to the Foundation’s ranks; good riddance to bad rubbish.”

“Yes,” Kakashi started, “but, Tenzou there are some things I need to--”

“Sorry to interrupt ... gotta apologize to you, Yamato.  I never got around to teaching the kid how to control Kyuubi on his own.” Lifting the straps binding the large scroll to his back and easing it to the ground, he slowly undid the toggles of his outer garments. “However, Naruto taught me two valuable lessons. First off, we all know the Nine Tail’s chakra protects and heals him, but when his emotions override good sense, that same chakra damages his body on a cellular level.  I was trying to teach him the Rasengan and no matter how he tried, Naruto just couldn’t do it.  His frustration led to this,” he said ripping open his shirt, revealing a deeply scarred chest to a stunned audience.  His voice, stained with remorse, trembled slightly as his hand glided up and dipped into one of the concave depressions in the center of his chest.  “Right before my eyes, a red cloak of chakra enveloped his body … and once the fourth tail manifested, he was beyond reason.  The only thing that kept the Nine Tails from going on a full-scale rampage was a seal Lady Tsunade gave me before his training--”  

“Jiraiya gifted it to me before this last mission,” mumbled Kakashi.  “Waited too long to apply it though … lucky to be alive.  Seeing Naruto in that state ... was terrifying.”

“Should he transform,” Jiraiya warned, “he’ll have no memory of what’s done while under Kyuubi’s influence.  We’re counting on you, Yamato … help him keep his emotions in check.  Should that fail … you’ll have to hold back the power of the beast.”

_Damn it, Tenzou … you’re the only logical choice.  Sorry buddy._

_Someone who possesses the Sharingan and the bloodline that powers it, can control the Nine Tails, making it do his bidding.  But, someone who possessed the bloodline ability of the First Hokage, can suppress the Nine Tail’s chakra and halt the transformation entirely._

Yamato swallowed down the lump in his throat bowing deeply before them. “Lord Jiraiya, Lady Tsunade and Kakashi-senpai … thank you for placing your trust in me.  I’ll do my best.”

While Jiraiya redressed and pooh-poohed Tsunade’s concerns, Kakashi once again focused his attention on the man charged with leading his team.

 _Tenzou._ An experienced jounin, proficient ANBU operative and one whose loyalty lies squarely with the Hokage. Sinking back into his pillows, he’d rest easier knowing his kohai wouldn't let him or the village down. How well Naruto would accept the addition of two new members to the team was an entirely different matter.  _He doesn’t know these kids like I do; couldn’t possibly understand how deep their feelings of sodality are. And trying to meld three strong willed ninja into an effective fighting force in a short time span is gonna drive him nuts._

As the others hashed out details of the mission, Kakashi’s thoughts drifted again, this time to the fourth team member, ‘Sai’; couldn’t help feeling sad for him too.  He knew what it was like, being thrown in the mix with people who didn’t want or need you as part of their universe. He understood the demands of proving one’s worth to those who simply didn’t give a damn. But Sai was a trained and presumably, experienced ANBU too -- that meant he’d follow orders without hesitation or question; the bullheaded Naruto might benefit from his example. As an ANBU, he wouldn’t have a mote of compunction about killing an enemy in the most brutal manner possible … that would be a gruesome and necessary lesson for Sakura to learn as well.

Still, 'Sai' was a product of the Foundation’s dehumanizing training regimen, meaning he wouldn’t hesitate to leave a comrade behind to die, especially if the success of a mission hung in the balance.

_That’s fucked up!  
_

NOTE:

Sodality: fellowship, comradeship.


	7. Dawn of a New Day

Two days after the team took off for Tenchi Bridge, Kakashi hit a pothole on the road to recovery – well … more like a sinkhole.

Spiraling down in a psychedelic haze, he drifted in and out of consciousness for a week.  Twice daily, members of the happy peppy physical therapy team ambushed his body, massaging and manipulating his extremities like bread dough.  Every six hours, medics exchanged the massive plastic bags of fluid that kept him nourished, hydrated and in a twilight sleep.

Today, the process of weaning him from the heavy-duty drugs would begin

under Lady Tsunade’s watchful eye.

“Ready or not, here I come. Oh, you’re dressed … well that won’t do.”  Making a note on his chart near the door, Tsunade glanced over at him. “Lose the shirt.”

“Pardon?”

“Your shirt,” she said striding toward the window, “take it off.  The mask has gotta go too.”

“The coy smile, locking the door … the seductive stroll to the window to close the blinds,” he said hugging the sheets to his chest, “why, Lady Tsunade … what are your intentions?”

“Getting you out of my hospital as soon as possible.  You’re a distraction for the civilian nurses.”

“I blame my parents.  Not entirely my fault I’m devastatingly handsome and witty, you know.” His smile slowly disappeared as she removed a small container and a paint brush from her pocket.

Having arranged these items and a syringe on the overbed table, she turned to him saying, “Such an honor to be in the presence of a ninja and comedian.  I don’t know what to say other than, shirt … off… now!”

Slowly the hem of his top inched up. “So, that’s the way of it, huh?  Render me immobile with a sealing jutsu so you can have your way with me--”    

“Well …  I could just punch you in the head and be done with it--”

“Oh no, that won’t do.  I’m a romantic and I prefer remaining conscious after a lady asks me to strip.”

“Fine, and just so we’re clear… a string bean like you is hardly my type.  I’d snap you like a twig long before things got interesting.”

“Promises, promises.”

“The medicine I’m about to administer is very effective … it has some ugly side effects though; that’s why I need the sealing jutsu.”

"Always was your favorite guinea pig.”

"Look, you wanna spend another week here?  No? Then quiet down and hold still.”

Crumpling the shirt in his lap, he gave her a crooked smile. “If the medicine is as effective as you say, why do you need--?”

She blew out an exasperated breath. "Already told you ... nasty side effects. This stuff can make you hallucinate and I’ll be damned if I let you destroy the hospital or injure my staff should you decide to light up the halls with your Raikiri.”

"Lady Tsunade, I would never--"  

“The mask, Kakashi … it’s gotta come off.” Grabbing hold the singlet, she pulled it over his head and dropped it in his lap before he could protest.  “The medicine accelerates healing, but I don’t know how or if it will negatively affect you. Now, lean forward and stop talking.”

Raising his arms above his head, the satisfying stretch eased out a groan as tired muscles pull him forward. Forearms resting atop his thighs, the cold thick paint tickled when she smeared it over tenketsu points on either side his spine. “My team,” he growled as the brush trailed up and over his shoulders.

“Sit up and hush … I need to concentrate.” Broad strokes connect each line from the top of his shoulders to the base of his throat. She turned back to the table and now with the ink pot in hand, thin lines trace along his breastbone toward his navel.  Another daub of the brush and upwards strokes leave concentric circles over the area of his heart.

“Well, you heard anything yet?”

“Almost done … would you please be quiet?”

He remained still as she flashed through hand signs to activate the jutsu, didn’t mumble another word when she directed the beam of a penlight into his natural eye and hardly flinched when she administered the injection.  Finally, when she turned to collect her supplies, he said, “You never answered my question … what of my team?”

He watched her shoulders sag.  “Haven’t heard a word since they left.  Listen, this stuff is gonna knock you out for a few hours,” she said easing his arms into the singlet and pushing him against the pillows.  “Try not to worry okay … no news is good news, right?”

 _‘No news is good news’ – what a crock of shit,_ he thought as he watched her walk away. ‘ _No news is good news’ is the pabulum we spoon fed to civilians; it’s meant to calm their fears about loved ones off on missions.  For shinobi, no news about a team, especially one looking to capture an associate of Orochimaru can only mean they hadn’t recovered the bodies yet._

 

**IGO      IGO      IGO      IGO      IGO**

Hours of wakefulness, days spent watching the sun march across the sky and the moon shimmy through the clouds by night, Kakashi found himself longing for those lost hours, when his brain had nothing more to do than regulate the rudimentary actions of his bodily functions.  

He was growing sullen . . . antsy and depressed as time passed him by.

Pitched and tossed by dark emotions, he embraced them, indulged their familiarity and made a game of identifying the myriad of sentiments running through his mind.

The most prominent was anger.  Tied for first place was aggravation: with Tsunade and the cronies who forced her into making his team walk into a trap.  Jealousy and resentment, he acknowledged as the last two hangers on.  His warden, the Hokage, had practically set him in stocks; the seal, meant to keep him from undoing the work to heal him.

_Just because I understand it, doesn’t mean I have to like it._

Two ANBU stood watch outside his door, another perched on the ledge outside his window and two more patrolled the rooftops across the street from the hospital; ready to pounce at a moment’s notice.

_Ah, yes paranoia … almost forgot about you._

A tiny part of him hoped each time the door to his room slid open it would reveal the Hokage, discharge papers in hand and a smile on her lips.

‘Her time and skills are required elsewhere,’ the nurses said each time he asked.

And now as he paced barefoot across the cold, linoleum tiles in the room, he felt moreso a caged animal than a patient.

Days later, with the medication clearing out of his system, the seal on his chakra loosened and the number of guards assigned to him reduced, his mind was firing on all cylinders; his strength was coming back in waves and his mood teetered on the brink of optimism.  He’d just crawled back into bed and curled up with Icha Icha Tactics when a hesitant knock at the door drew his eyes from the book.  

“Kakashi-senpai.  May I enter?”

"Sure,” he sighed.  “Why not?”

In strode his kohai, slightly winded, his cheeks flushed as if he'd run a great distance.  “Given the long face,” he teased as Tenzou took up a respectful distance from his bed, “dare I ask how the mission went?”

“I have a very handsome, oval shaped face, senpai … and the mission was aborted; a colossal clusterfuck, if you must know.”  

“Aww crap! What did Naruto do this time?”

“Wasn’t him, senpai.  About a mile outside the village, Sakura threw a punch that sent Sai asshole over elbows across the road.”

Kakashi lowered his book for a moment.  “Never seen her flatten anybody aside from Naruto before ... what brought that on?”

“Sai … he called Sasuke a ‘little homo’, a 'traitorous cockroach,’ or something along those lines--”

“I can see why that set her off … Sasuke was her little dreamboat you know.”

“Honestly, I don’t know you did it for so long without going bonkers.  Day after day, the bickering, the name-calling and yelling.  There were times when I just wanted to throw ‘em all in a cage and let ‘em beat the crap out of each other--”

“Don’t feel bad,” he laughed.  “In the early days, I wanted to push ‘em off a cliff myself ... even fantasized how I'd write it up as a training mishap.  Only reason I didn’t was because the Sandaime would’ve pitched a bitch.”

“Yeah, well I ended up taking ‘em to a hot spring. The only thing that changed was the size of my wallet; rest of the mission went downhill from there.  At Tenchi Bridge, we met up with the spy and his plus one--”

“Lemme guess … two members of the Akatsuki, right?”

“Worse.  Yakushi Kabuto and his master ... Orochimaru.”

“Crap!”

 

Note:

Tenketsu: literal meaning, 'pressure points,' are nodes which control the flow of chakra inside the body like circuit breakers; within those tenketsu are Eight Gates which control body function and strain levels. Tenketsu are very small, approximately the size of a tip of a needle, too small for even the Sharingan to see.  Most medical ninja have general knowledge of where these points are located as well as basic techniques to use these points to assist in a patient's healing.  


	8. Transversal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Transversal: a line that passes through two lines in the same plane at two distinct points.

“Naruto went ‘chicken killer’ cuckoo on me and transformed the moment Orochimaru mentioned Sasuke’s name--”

“Well, thank goodness you were there, Tenzou--”

“Don’t congratulate me just yet senpai.  Had my hands full; an unconscious medic, bridge crumbling under my feet … a monster I couldn’t control.”  He paused to breathe, looking down at the tiled floor.  “Naruto took off after Orochimaru and Sai chased down Kabuto … at least, that’s what it looked like he was doing.”

“This Sai … sounds like a conscientious young man,” he said turning another page.

“I made a clone track those two idiots while I got Sakura to safety.”  A minor change in his kohai’s breathing, the understated ripple in his chakra pattern and a negligible dip of his head, stilled Kakashi’s finger at a familiar passage of text.   

“One fourth of the beast’s power manifested - that’s what it took to force Orochimaru’s retreat.  The snake is more powerful than we realized, Kakashi.”  

“And Sai, he caught up with his target?”

Crossing his arms over his chest, his hands tucked under his armpits, Yamato lowered his head.  “My clone watched Sai kneel at Orochimaru's feet before handing over a thick envelope to him.  Found out later it contained profiles and photos of every ANBU operative assigned to the Hokage.”

“I see.  Danzou wanted help to destroy the village so he could take over -- what else is new?  Only thing I wonder is how he got hold of information like that in the first place?”

“Who knows?  That’s something for Ibiki to figure out.”

Another page flipped as Tenzou stepped closer to his bedside.  “I never understood why the Sandaime didn’t execute him for treason,” Kakashi mumbled.  “Still don’t understand why the Godaime puts up with his bullshit.  Anyway, one good thing came out of our stay at the hot springs.  I planted tracking seeds in the food and Sai’s clothing; that’s how we found him inside Orochimaru’s hideout. He didn’t try to escape or attack us, just confessed his mission objective and surrendered.”

“Hmm … wonder if the kid’s still in one piece?  Foundation ANBU who fail their missions are subjected to unspeakable torture if they’re lucky--”

“Or certain death if they aren’t,” Yamato softly said. There was a long uncomfortable silence and a shuffling of his stance from one foot to another before he continued. “Once outside the hideout, we learned of Sai’s secondary mission.  I’m sorry senpai, but his assignment was. . . to assassinate Uchiha Sasuke.”

Gripping the book with more force than necessary, his lips pulled into a thin angry line. “Sasuke--”

“That part of his mission was a bust too,” Yamato said in a rush. “Sai couldn’t bring himself to do it.”

A shaky exhalation disturbed the corner of the page Kakashi pretended to read. Blinking a few times to set things right, he stared at the book in his hands.  _What the hell possessed him to abandon that part of his mission?_

“You still listening Kakashi?  I said, Kabuto showed up before we went inside the hideout--"  

"I heard you ... keep going."

"Seeing Sai in restraints made him think he was still on their side.”  Sheepishly scratching at the nape of his neck, Yamato stammered, “It was at this point I assumed Sai would turn on us. ”  Shivering at the killing intent radiating from the bed, he stepped back and quickly added, “He did turn, but not on us.  And no, he didn’t kill Kabuto either, in case you’re wondering.  Guess Naruto’s words were more powerful against him than any jutsu I could’ve used.”

Kakashi slumped against the headboard. _Naruto ... the kid always could empathize with others, challenge people’s perceptions of him and ultimately, themselves._

“Get this senpai, Sai turned on Kabuto because he was curious.”

“About how easily he could fool you guys?”

 Yamato shook his head as he took another step closer.  “Naruto’s relationship to Sasuke didn’t make sense to him.  Couldn’t wrap his brain around why anybody would go to such lengths for a friend, especially when they weren’t ordered to do it.  He had to see for himself whether the bonds Naruto believed in were strong enough to withstand Sasuke’s hatred.”

“Seriously?”

 “Yeah, I thought it was a bunch of crap when I heard him say it too.” He linked his arms behind his back, his eyes focused on the tiles beneath his feet.   “Sai . . . he’s a strange one alright.”

While Yamato droned on ad nauseum about Sai’s curiosity being the turning point in relation to his teammates and how he believed this transformation was genuine, Kakashi tuned most of it out, waiting patiently to hear if there were further news of Sasuke.

“… back inside the hideout, Sai found him and after the explosion--”

“Explosion? Tenzou, what the hell--?”

“Let me finish, senpai. Sasuke broke free of the bindings Sai used to capture him, hence the explosion. Anyway, everybody was physically drained after searching through the hideout … but we took off running anyway; by the time we came face to face with Sasuke, Naruto and Sakura were too stunned to move.”

Icha Icha Tactics closed with finality and wound up in Kakashi’s lap. “Sasuke . . .  you saw him?”

“Give it up Kakashi, there’s an aura of pure evil surrounding that kid and--”

“Naruto . . . was he able to . . . I mean, did he talk to him?”

“Yeah,” was the unenthusiastic response that tumbled from his lips. “It was a waste of breath. His heart is blacker and harder than a lump of coal; his only goal is revenge.” Clenching his hands into fists, Kakashi heard him quietly say, “I’m sorry senpai. . . Sasuke is a lost cause.”

Kakashi’s eye drifted from the book in his lap, to the window beside his bed. _If Naruto’s words couldn’t reach him ..._ _nothing can.  Sai failed his mission ... so one day it’s gonna fall to me to kill Sasuke.   Damn it!_

Loudly clearing his throat, Yamato looked off into the distance as well and when he spoke this time, his voice was barely above a whisper.  “Sasuke drew his sword, intending to slice Naruto in half.” Another deep breath followed. “I was incapacitated, paralyzed to be exact,” he admitted awkwardly, “but Sai jumped into the mix, deflected the blade aimed at Naruto’s heart.  Sasuke was ready to kill all of us … would’ve too, if the demonic duo hadn’t shown up when they did.”

“Knowing Orochimaru still values you must’ve made you all warm and gooey inside.”  From ten paces away, he felt the other man’s chakra roiling; he’d struck a nerve with a cheap shot and crossed an invisible line.

“Fuck you Kakashi,” he said turning on his heel.

“Tenzou … wait … I’m sorry.”  The sheets crumpled under his fingers as he clawed at them.  “Pissed me off to hear you say out loud the things I’ve tried not to think about these years.  I was an ass . . . shouldn’t have said what I did.”

After a few deep breaths, Tenzou turned back, owlishly blinking at the lowered head of his senpai.  “You’ve been an ass ever since I’ve known you, Kakashi.  Be grateful I’ve learned how to forgive you for being an ass.”

They shared an uneasy laugh, each of them hesitant to look the other squarely in the face. 

“Before you so rudely interrupted me, I was gonna tell you ‘why’ Orochimaru put the kibosh on Sasuke.  Can you believe he expects the Leaf Village to whittle down the Akatsuki’s ranks?”

“Makes sense,” he said, reaching down to retrieve his book. “Megalomaniacs depend on weak willed ass kissers to carry out their dirty work.”

“True but on the plus side, ever since the encounter with Sasuke, Sai started thinking for himself, deciding what he will and won’t do.   The kid is desperate to establish a genuine connection with Naruto and Sakura … obsessed with the idea--”

“So, the traitor turns comrade? What a happy ending.  Tenzou … don’t tell me you believe that bullshit?”

“Yeah, I do,” he said, rubbing at his chin. “He’s surprisingly honest when asked the right questions.  Kid’s as blunt as a butter knife with no filter in his brain to separate what is and what isn’t appropriate--”

“The same could be said of Naruto . . . so?”

“Damn shame what the Foundation does to a person, senpai,” he said as he took a few steps toward Kakashi.  “That kid takes things at face value, can’t read emotional subtext to save his life, and has no sense of humor whatsoever.  Like I said, he is sincere, so be careful how you phrase things in casual conversation with him.”

“I’ll keep it in mind, “he said turning a stubborn page. “Something else you wanted to tell me, Tenzou?”

“I’m Yamato now, remember?”

 


	9. Vertex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vertex: the point where two or more curves, lines or edges meet. (Kakashi)

“Here’s the deal; Sai’s status changed from ‘replacement’ to permanent member of Team Kakashi . . . at his request.”

“Bet Danzou blew a gasket,” he mumbled, trying not to rip the current page from the book.

Yamato closed his eyes, smiling wistfully. “I sure hope so.  Well, that’s all I got senpai, now … if you’ll pardon me, there’s a stiff drink out there with my name all over it.” With a quick bow and pivot he’d made it back to the door, his fingers hooked inside the notch – when from across the room he heard Kakashi clear his throat.

“Ummm … before you run off, Tenzyamato, why are you trying so hard to sell me on this ‘Sai’ person?”

 _In for a penny, in for a pound,_ he thought turning to face his senpai.  “I spent my formative years in the Foundation so I know what that life is like.   I feel bad for him, okay?”  

“You were so cute back then, Tenzou, with your chubby cheeks, long hair and your little short pants--”

“Cute and deadly … that was me. And if it hadn’t been for you … I would’ve turned out just like Sai.”

“So, you’re asking me to overlook betrayal?  Should I laugh it off as the result of years of brainwashing?  Maybe we just pretend it never happened?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.  Give the kid a chance – try to encourage whatever humanity he still has ... we watch him like a hawk, of course--”

“Sounds like a lot of work for one man, Tenzou.”

“It’ll be worth it, I promise.  Sai is a long-range fighter with unique ninjutsu…  you can never have too many of those on a team.  He also has above average taijutsu skill for close quarter situations, thinks on his feet and has excellent chakra control. So, what’s the problem?”

After an uncomfortable silence, Kakashi mumbled, “Transference.  Ever heard of it?”

“Don’t you try and turn this around on me--”

“I’m not … just figuring this out as we go along.  You identify with Sai because of your shared experiences.  You know what it’s like being singled out and praised by Lord Danzou because of your unique skills and abilities--”

“What of it?”

“Easier for you to forgive his actions because he was programmed to suppress emotions, like you were.”

“Let’s be clear, Kakashi,” he said walking to the foot end of the bed.  “You’re as guilty of favoritism as I am. Sasuke was an intelligent, gifted shinobi … you invested so much of your time and effort into his development to the detriment of the other members of Squad Seven--”

“And it blew up in my face, didn’t it?” The line of Kakashi’s mask tensed as he ground his teeth together. “You’d do well to learn from the mistakes of your seniors.”

“Sai doesn’t have an axe to grind with anyone, he’s a blank slate and I mean that literally.  I’ve seen how much he’s changed--”

“Okay ... and what if this ‘change’ is nothing but an act?”

“What made you think my transformation was real?”

“Apples and oranges --”

“Okay, unlike Sai, I hadn’t killed off all human emotions.  I could see it in his eyes, senpai, he’s having an awakening.  He’s trying to understand, trying to reach out and connect with people, but he doesn’t know how.  Good god … it’s painful to watch.   You saw me go through the same thing and helped me turn my back on all that crap--”

“Yeah, yeah … already paid my dues; I’m getting too old for this kinda stuff.”

“You have any idea how difficult it must’ve been, asking Danzou’s permission for reassignment, especially after failing a mission?  Don’t you remember … it took the Sandaime’s intervention to get me out of the Foundation after I had a change of heart … had to be a thousand times harder for Sai because he had nobody in his corner.”

The sound of another page turning was the only response he got. “You want me to handle this on my own, don’t you?”

“Well, you think he deserves the same opportunity afforded you, Tenzou … who better to--”

“Fine!”

“No need to snap, just don’t wanna take on a charity case right now--”

“Not a charity case Kakashi…  Sai is a person,” he mumbled under his breath.

“Okay, okay” he said, laying the book into his lap again.  “Like it matters what I think; Danzou and Lady Tsunade already agreed to the move, end of story.  But, I’m gonna hold you responsible for his ‘adjustment.’ I can’t afford any more grey hair--”

“What … you serious?  Oh, thank god,” he laughed, “I was running out of guilt trip material.”

  **IGO     IGO     IGO     IGO     IGO**

It wasn’t long after Tenzou left that he heard them, _his team,_ squabbling as they fast walked down the corridor.   _Looks like it’s time for round two._

“This is crazy!” Naruto shouted.  “We didn’t do nothin’ to nobody to deserve this!”

“Keep your voice down numbskull,” Sakura hissed.  “We shouldn’t be bothering him with this stuff while he’s trying to rest.”

“Who else we gonna tell?  Here it is.”

They barreled into the room, looking all the world like two snapping turtles with bellyaches.

“Hey, Kakashi-sensei!  What gives?”

“I imagine the plaster around the door frame will if people keep slamming it open. What’s the fuss, Naruto?”

“Captain Yamato just told us Sai’s been permanently assigned to our team,” he said.

Come on Kakashi-sensei,” Sakura said, “tell us this is one of Captain Yamato’s stupid jokes." Studying Kakashi's unchanged expression she sighed.  "Oh my god, it's not a joke, is it? Okay, then who did we piss off that badly to dump Sai on us?”

“Sakura, Naruto … Sai became a member of the team at his request; he obviously likes you guys and now we’re stuck with him.  I suggest you get used to it.”  

“But I don’t like him ... he’s a bastard and a moron,” Naruto grumbled.  “Thinks he's better than everybody else!”

“Not everybody, just you.  He’s got enough sense to fear me though,” Sakura said with a measure of pride.

“You know ... a long time ago, Captain Yamato tried to kill me and take my Sharingan.  Somehow, we became friends.  Now, if we could get along after that, surely you guys can deal with Sai.”

“Really, Kakashi-sensei?  Why would he do that?”

“Long story, Naruto.   The best thing you guys can do is try to focus on Sai's good points; I’m sure he has at least one or two.  Then, maybe you can help him with the transition to his new life.”

“Geez, do we have to?”

“Not gonna kill you to be nice to him, Sakura.”

“He does have one redeeming quality,” Naruto glumly said as he flopped down at the foot end of the bed. “He can draw really fast.”  Suddenly, the tow haired boy’s eyes gleamed.  “It's kinda cool … he draws snakes  you can use as ropes, or lots of little mice to do reconnaissance and some really scary lions; guess he might serve a purpose after all." Sourly folding his arms over his chest, he added, “But that's all he’s got going for him!"

Sakura wasn't a fan of Sai's cold demeanor, nor of his blunt and misogynistic observations.  And though she bitterly complained about his vulgar language and arrogant behavior, she seemed more willing to give him a chance. The slight blush sneaking up her cheeks and the way she lowered her head at the mention of Sai's name, told Kakashi her decision to accept him was skewed.

 _She sees him as someone she can mold into the image of a 'perfect' Sasuke, one who would never wound her as deeply as the original had done. One of these days,_ he thought, _I’ve got to_ _sit down and have a long talk with that girl about her taste in men._

“It’s so wrong and so sad,” she sniffed.  “He was trained to turn off his emotions and just … kill.”

“Sakura, that’s the way of ANBU--”

But, you’re not like that Kakashi-sensei … you’re almost … a regular person. What if Sai flips out in the middle of a mission again?  Would we have to . . . kill him?”

Naruto’s worried eyes darted between Sakura and Kakashi.  “He gives me the creeps too, but I don’t wanna hafta kill him.  You’re not gonna make us kill him are you Kakashi-sensei?”

“Nobody’s killing anybody--”

“Cool," he breathed.  "You know something else that’s weird about him?  He claims no attachment to anything or anybody,” Naruto said, grinding his fist into the mattress.  “I think he’s lying, cause he holds onto a small picture book like it's his girlfriend or something; said it belonged to his brother--"

"No, he said it was supposed to be a 'gift' for his brother, he died before Sai could give it to him." Sakura said.

"Man … thought I had a weird childhood; his was way worse than mine. He told me he and his brother were members of that Foundation thing, they trained together ... ran missions together, all their lives." His voice trailed off and the light in his eyes dimmed slightly.  "When it came time to graduate, they found out only one of ‘em would be promoted after a fight to the death. That's really screwed up."

Kakashi nodded, raising his book a bit higher to conceal a sneer. _Yes, it was a despicable way to test the commitment of Konoha's youth, to see how far they would go to carry out a directive – but that was the way of the Foundation; it was how they weeded out the ones who dared feel anything._

"After they sparred for a while, Sai said his brother just gave up--"

"He killed his own brother?" Sakura gasped. What kind of a monster this guy?”  

Naruto's chin dipped to his chest. "Not exactly, said his brother was real sick . . . would’ve died soon anyway.  Just wanted to make it look like Sai won so he’d have a chance to live.  What kind of people would force kids to do something like that?”

Empty platitudes of sympathy found no place to land as sudden, weighty silence descended on the occupants of the room.

Of course they understood perfectly; they were shinobi.

"That picture book," Naruto finally said, "the one he always carries around wasn't finished –hadn't been for years, until he told me that story. Said he blocked out the memories of that time in his life. After he told me, it came back to him, and right there on the spot, he drew a picture of two smiling boys holding hands because they'd defeated all their enemies." He threw his head back and laughed. “What a crappy ending for a book of pictures, but Sai's weird like that."

"Now he’s our problem," Sakura chimed in. "Don't worry Kakashi-sensei; we'll make the best of it . . . I hope."

Shielding his mouth with his hand, Naruto scooted closer to where Kakashi sat and said, "Sai has another problem.  He's a pervert, worse than you are, sensei . . . I mean, different from you.  I think he’s confused,” he said, stealing glances at Sakura before he continued.  “He's always talking about, you know . . . penises and balls - well, mine anyways."

"Maybe that's his idea of male bonding Naruto, sorta like a verbal handshake."

 


	10. Vertical Angles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vertical Angles – when two lines intersect (Kakashi and Yamato) opposite angles are called vertical (Naruto and Sakura); they share the same vertex (Kakashi), don’t have to point in the same direction or be on similar sized lines.

The first time Kakashi laid eyes on this kid from the Foundation, he was still in the hospital . . . he only wished he'd been juiced up on painkillers or at least, had a pair of sunglasses available.

From what he could see, Sai was about eighteen years old, pale as unadorned rice paper with jet black hair and ebony eyes that revealed absolutely nothing. There was such an awkwardness that seemed to engulf him, a sadness tangible and pitiful. Less than twenty words passed between him and Sai that day; there was nothing remarkable about him, nothing that pricked his senses about something dangerous.

The next time Kakashi saw him was after his release from the hospital. On the northern training grounds, where Naruto struggled to develop a new and indefensible ninjutsu, Sai showed up every day.  The kid never masked his chakra as he considered those assembled his comrades; he'd pass the time sitting quietly under the shade of an elm tree, and when he wasn't reading a book, he'd sketch Naruto while he trained.  With each new day, he crossed the line he'd drawn for himself, inching closer, yet never infringing on the perimeter surrounding Kakashi, Yamato and Naruto. Never a word was spoken either in greeting or as he prepared to depart for the day.

Kakashi didn't let on that he'd seen him and never turned to question his presence at the training grounds.

In many ways, he could relate to the socially discomforted young man.  After his father's death, he'd shut himself away from the world, alienating all who sought to comfort him. He lived for upholding the rules, and for the successful completion of a mission; he yearned to spill an enemy's blood with the edge of his katana, to feel their life force splatter against his mask and soak into his clothing. Back then, he was slowly turning into a monster and he didn't give a damn about that. His comrades feared what they saw as his increasing mental instability; some whispered behind his back that he had a death wish and perhaps that was true.

Others called him 'Cold-blooded Kakashi' to his face; it was a nickname he wore like a badge of honor.

Years of living that kind of life was tearing him up inside, though he didn't realize it, couldn't see the symptoms of his slow and steady demise. It wasn't until someone had the balls to snatch him away from the darkness that he really learned the meaning of life. The only difference between the person he was then and the person Sai is at present is that Kakashi had emotions to begin with; something he could fall back on to an extent.   It must have been easier for Sai, to suffocate something that never had a chance to live in the first place.

Every day, he sensed Sai was trying to pull himself out of the darkness.  Like a butterfly fighting to emerge from its chrysalis, the effort to break free is what made its wings strong.   Were he to interfere, that tiny spark of life and hope would forever be extinguished.

_Am I ready to stand at the mouth of that pit . . . to congratulate him once he claws his way out?  Or am I trying to atone for the errors I made with Sasuke?  If this kid turns into a shinobi loyal to the Hokage, will it absolve me of the remorse, expunge the guilt I’ve lived with all these years?_

He knew Sai was hard wired to follow the orders given him. Didn’t make it any easier to trust him much less forgive him for the despicable things he’d done.

  _I need more time and a helluva lotta space to figure out how to deal with this guy._

**IGO    IGO   IGO   IGO**

Less than a week after Naruto's training began, Team Kakashi, under Yamato's leadership was called away on another mission. Graves near the Fire Temple disturbed, corpses stolen; the purpose of this desecration, a mystery.

Kakashi too found himself tasked with a separate mission; a meeting with the Toad Sannin, Lord Jiraiya.  Together they would determine whether the Akatsuki were involved.  If they were, the Hokage needed to know how close they were to the Leaf Village.

It would be several months before all the members of Team Kakashi stood on the training fields of home once again.

 

NOTE:

The line: “Like a snapping turtle with a bellyache,” was shamelessly lifted from an episode of the Three Stooges.  Thanks for the memories and the laughter guys.


	11. Obtuse?

Obtuse: not quick or alert in perception, feeling or intellect.

It was the time of day he'd come to appreciate.  Sitting beside the window, the sun not having reached its midday crest - perfumed breezes making music as they flutter the corners of his book.  Since his confinement, it was also the time of day which made him ill at ease. Thrice daily came the performance of a delicate balancing act, pitting years of training against the reawakened need to please. Instinct had his body strung like a hunter's bow … the entirety of his focus now concentrated on the door to his cell.

 _They_ were coming for him…

the sounds of their crepe soled footfalls like signatures,

unique above all others as they marched down the corridor.

Soon they'd stand outside his cell, flabby arms folded across droopy bosoms as they debated the arrangement of his interrogation or torture.  Instinct drew his left arm across his body, his fingers stretching forth, straining for the handle of his absent tanto - and as they always did, the stabbing pains shooting through his back stopped instinct cold; yet another reminder of his defenseless state.

Downcast eyes sweep back and settle on the book lying spine up in his lap - a training manual from his squad leader, a gift given on the second day of his imprisonment;

Social Intercourse: Volume One - Establishing Rapport.

" _Remember Sai,"_ his captain said as he handed over the entire series, " _this isn't a Foundation infirmary. These people aren't trying to slit your throat or poison you. They're healers ... civilian healers… noncombatants."_

A forced exhale banished the tension from his body and when he closed his eyes, his fingers tracing the book's spine, he could see his captain sitting there by the side of the bed, wearing the same, ' _I want to strangle you, but I understand your confusion,'_ look he always seemed to have. He could hear the drumbeat of his captain's fingers against the edge of the chair's seat as he futzed about for the right words to say.

‘ _Lookit,_ Captain Yamato said, ‘ _the last thing you need in this place is a bad reputation. What if you thought of your stay here as an infiltration mission? All you need do is adapt yourself, conform to their routine and gather information. Just give 'em that fake smile ... be quiet, polite and cooperative. Think you can do that for me?’_

For his captain's sake, he was willing to try, since the concepts of routine and conformity usually held his instincts in check. It would require a great deal of effort.  So accustomed was he to the expressionless masks of the Foundation's medics, the animated faces of his present caretakers still made him wary.

 _Their smiles are as fake as mine,_ he thought, _and perhaps, so are their intentions. Still, reports of my good behavior will make things easier for my captain._

 _Adaptation to routine …_ that was the easy part. Three times a day, these same two _civilian_ nurses charged into his room, bearing trays laden with tasteless foods, their pockets filled with vials of medication, clinking against the empty cylinders intended to store portions of his blood. They always took turns, scribbling down his vital signs or noting his current mental state on their ever present clipboards.

Aware of what he had to do, he opened his eyes and rose slowly from his seat, knowing the nurses felt less threatened when he wasn't ambulatory.

Only a few minutes remained in which to crawl into bed where they expected him to be; soon they'd stand on the other side of the door... cackling and whispering. But in the ears of a trained shinobi, civilian whispers were anything but.

 _'A creepy psychopath' ... a 'lunatic', a 'difficult' patient_ \- that's what they always called him - that's why they feared him.

Given his condition upon arrival - his mind warped by fever, his body wracked with pain, ninja medics would have understood what triggered the attack. It was a case of bad luck all around, as less experienced civilian medics staffed the emergency room that day. In retrospect, it was what his captain called - a 'teachable' moment.

For the medics, they learned the folly behind attempting disarmament of a wounded shinobi and for Sai, it was the day was branded a deranged dissembler.

Quietly slipping between starched sheets, he settled back into a brace of lumpy pillows, and as he smoothed the linens over his lap, once more he heard his captain's voice saying:

‘ _Try not to antagonize the nurses and whatever you do, don't startle them with your drawings. Understood?’_

No worries about that second bit, for all his brushes, inks, and scrolls were turned into the hands of his captain after he was subdued in the emergency room. From that point onward, he was granted supervised periods of sketching whenever his captain was present. As for the politely smiling, cooperative quietness bit which his captain insisted on ... well, that just made the nurses edgier.

Short, stubby nails clicked against the door's metal hand hold - a signal that rounds had begun. The mid-morning injection of painkillers would render him unconscious, docile… less prone to attack when it came time for his physical exam. The nurses wisely left that chore to the Hokage, a ninja and medic herself, one capable of countering any instinctual defensive moves on his part. A contrived smile pulled at the corner of his lips when they entered - as usual, it was met with the same revulsion, the same matched scowls and the same unblinking fear in the nurse's' eyes as they rushed through their chores.

No sooner than they left, the thick medication crawled through his veins, forcing his mind into neutral; afterwards, the same images running in an endless loop would present themselves – events of days, weeks and years past would recycle themselves as if having freshly occurred. And as his drug induced dreams always did, the second his eyes closed, Sai felt darkness descend once again -the sensation of falling and the pain …it all rushed back.

As the ochroid mist lifts this time, he sees a gigantic hairy spider advancing on his frightened teammate - he feels the membranes crunch under his tanto as it slips inside the arachnid's brain; his nostrils filling with a nauseatingly sweet odor as hot, slimy, green venom splatters against his face, into his mouth and all over his uniform.

Sakura's frantic screams echo inside the cave and rumble down inside his ears as his limp body hurtles toward an unyielding pillar of mud. Then came the ear shattering snap of bones … his bones, when he's slammed to the cave's floor. The iron taste of blood … his blood, fills his mouth and the acidic burn of disappointment scorches his gut.

Another mission failed.

He was falling into darkness again and the scene beneath him shifts as he spirals downward. From an earthen prison to a wide open space inundated with bright lights ... an ocean of white robed people surrounded him - their faces aglow with terror.

Suddenly, _that_ voice thunders over the noise and confusion in the room - it's timbre, firm and uncompromising, keyed into the part of his psyche which demands obedience above all else.

' _Lay down your weapon,'_ the voice said. ' _Your mission's complete.'_

Slowly, the face attached to the voice swims into focus - the happuri, the spiky brown hair and eyes of darkest brown.  _That_ voice, softer now as the stern features of his captain slacken … the feeling of warm, strong fingers prizing a kunai from his clammy, clenched fist – it still tingled against his flesh.

' _It's alright, Sai … I'm here_ ,' the voice whispered. ' _You're safe.'_

The sensation of floating ceases as his body comes to rest inside a room with white walls and warm breezes gently blowing from the window opposite of where he lay.

His captain's snorts of laughter fill the spotlessly clean room with a ticklish warmth much like the sun, which passes through his skin and heats his mending bones. _That_ voice … daily kept him abreast of current events, it patiently responds to the stream of his endless questions and gently corrects his misconceptions.

And as they always did when the medication started to wear off - his thoughts sort themselves out … whittling down to one point, one person,

Captain Yamato.

Calm, reasonable, easy to converse with or listen to - Captain Yamato had been most helpful, teaching him to adjust to life outside the Foundation.  _Comfort,_ he thinks when he stirs; _perhaps that is the best word for Captain Yamato. He willingly compensates for or explains away my behavior when others take offence - his presence ... it feels as easy and natural as a paintbrush in my hands. The appreciation he has for my approach to people and situations … it's almost the same as the feeling of charcoal skimming over parchment._

Captain Yamato, commanding officer, interim squad leader ... _friend?_

The passive aggressive Sakura, always ready to give advice whether requested or not, or to render aid to those in need of medical intervention, whether they were a member of her team or not.  She’d been helpful and unusually patient in her explanation of the things he found unfamiliar and nonsensical.  Intelligent and freakishly strong, her infrequent knocks upside his head were no longer seen as an invitation to spar, instead Yamato-taichou explained that this was her way of showing ‘affection.’

Affection, he quickly learned was rather painful.

Naruto, a spitfire, was much more than the container for a demon spirit as he’d been taught to believe. He was denser than a 2x4 in matters intellectual, that much was true, yet Naruto possessed something Sai desperately wished to apprehend. . . something one of his books termed as ‘emotional intelligence.’  Naruto was loud and obnoxious, but he had a way of sifting through the darkness in another person’s heart; shining the light of hope, forgiveness and tolerance, he drew people to his side and his cause.

When next he opens his eyes, the chair beside his bed is empty though he senses the presence of two other people - even though a cotton partition prevents him from seeing their faces, their chakra is familiar.

A smile ... effortless, genuine and grateful skates over his lips and into a dip of the hard hospital mattress he sinks.

 

Note:

Ochroid: ocher, a pigment which ranges in color from pale yellow to orange and red.

 


	12. Gauche?

Gauche: lacking social grace.

* * *

 

 He counted himself fortunate as it was almost the time of day that he enjoyed most - when the sun was at its peak, making its rays thump against his back as it kissed the nape of his neck and warmed, tired muscles.  After weeks of sluicing through stagnant gullies and tramping down muck filled lanes, the noise of firm soil crunching beneath the sole of his boots was a welcome sound.  Soon, he’d be inside the forests of home - the scent of fragrant loam and mosses hitching a ride on his clothing, lingering in the fabric of his mask, the gentle gurgle of runnels as they wound through the trees usually settled his nerves - what a shame they wouldn’t have a chance to do it this time.  

 _They_ were intently watching him - crouched in anticipation ... impatient for him to step into their snare. _These guys are_ s _loppy …  tyros, obviously … almost as if they want me to know they’re watching._

Friend or foe … difficult to determine at this point and what the front guard lacked in subtlety, they made up for in intent.

_The ones backing them; definitely heavy hitters._

Two things he knew of a certainty; there were far too many of them for him to tackle alone and this wasn’t an army of shadow clones.  As he walked through the boscage, chary eyes bored into his back; from the sounds of their scouting signals which were familiar and predictable, it meant these were _friendly_ forces - announcing his entry into each sector and monitoring his location by the book. Thankfully, he knew these woods like the back of his hand and if his assessment proved incorrect, he’d have no shame about sprinting toward the nearest ANBU outpost for assistance.

The further he journeyed into the woods, the more visible they became; scores of poorly concealed ninja arrayed on the highest boughs of ancient trees -  dozens more lurking behind or blending into dense shrubs. Purposely crushing a pine cone under foot, he heard at least twenty kunai holsters snap open -  he sensed nervous hands hovering over their weapons, all of them itching for the chance to make him a pincushion.  

_So much for my good fortune.  Had I but known Academy instructors were running the pre-genin through surveillance exercises, I might have spent another night in that cave._

He was careful not to make any other sudden moves, nor veer from the established footpaths as he wended through the glades; but now as he stood overlooking the village, he let out a sigh of relief.   He was home again...muddied, not bloodied; tired, yet nowhere near chakra exhaustion.  

 _Note to self ... have to mention this next time I see Iruka-sensei, ‘cause if the kids back there are our future defenders,_ he thought, _may the gods have mercy on us all._

Just the idea of the pedantic chunnin flying into a rage was enough to make him laugh as gentle winds nudged him down the sloping hill toward the main gates.  He paid no mind to the rising steam from the lumber mills in the west, neither did he give a second thought to the overabundance of shinobi patrolling the village ramparts.  But, something in the air made him wrinkle his nose. _Hmm … maybe I should hit the bathhouse before debriefing Lady Tsunade._

Once he passed through the web of checkpoints outside and inside the gates, the rancid smell of panic slapped him in the face.

Fresh hewn timber, its fragrance drifting on the breezes welcomed him inside the village proper; the sound of thundering hooves as teams of oxen hauled lumber laden carts through the streets east of where he stood, the scent of fresh pitch bubbling in metal vats, the cacophony of hammers and axes and the sight of workmen scurrying about, led him to believe what he was witnessing was no ordinary infrastructure upgrade.  

_It's almost as if the village is in the process of a complete rebuild._

A heightened sense of urgency, like a hostile shadow stood beside every shinobi he met, his questions deflected or blatantly ignored - comrades he’d known and worked with for years, tossed skeptical glances his way as he moved deeper inside the village.  The civilians were equally affected; a pronounced sense of caution eclipsed their smiles and even the marketplace teeming with people seemed oddly quiet.  

_What the hell is going on around here?_

Paranoia crawled up his back, whispering in his ear as his thoughts automatically turned to the whereabouts and safety of his team. Last he’d heard they were at the Fire Temple, but that was weeks ago.   He took to the rooftops, hastening toward the Hokage Tower.

_I have to believe Tenzou will do or has done everything in his power to keep them safe._

**IGO    IGO   IGO   IGO**

The mission room at the top of the stairs and to his left stood silent; he sensed only two chakra signatures inside the massive space.  A quick peek inside revealed the august Umino Iruka seated at his desk, a genin runner standing beside him.  

_Perfect!  Nobody gave me a straight answer about what’s going on but I know he will._

Never once was there an indication Iruka heard him enter the room even when he let the door slam behind him. _That's weird …he usually lifts his eyes or raises his hand in greeting, no matter how busy he is._

To the lectern he strode where the massive brown ledger lay open -  a moment spent scrawling his name and tense seconds wasted flipping through previous pages of the ‘Available for Duty’ roster netted nothing.   Normally whenever shinobi lingered here or dared nose around inside the ledger, it would have garnered a not so polite clearing of the throat from Iruka.  Hell, even the runner was ignoring him.

 _Oh yeah,_ he thought.   _Something is terribly wrong_.

For a while, only the uninterrupted scratch of a ballpoint pen, punctuated by the occasional frustrated crumples of paper were the only sounds in the room.  “Alright, this get this to the front gate as quickly as you can,” he heard him say.

When the door slammed behind the runner, Kakashi saw his chance.   “Surprised you’re here all by your lonesome, Iruka-sensei.” he said, his attention seemingly still on the ledger.  “Shouldn’t you be in class this time of day?”

Another page turned on Iruka’s side of the room.  “Hmm? Oh …umm, welcome back, Kakashi-san.  For the record, today is Saturday; I have no class … and yes, I do realize what I just said.”   

The roster abandoned for the moment, Kakashi sauntered over to where the chunnin sat. He leaned his hip against the desk and made himself comfy; normally, that too would have elicited a growl, but nary a word was spoken.   

“Saturday … of course,” Kakashi said, “that explains why it’s so quiet in here.”

Iruka promptly went back to ignoring him.  

“Please tone down your enthusiasm over my safe return.  Mind telling me what’s going on around here?”

The pen in Iruka’s hand faintly shook. “Akatsuki,” he snarled.   “Patrols spotted two of ‘em near our western border three weeks ago.”

 _That explains the increased forest patrols, gate guards and the multitude of checkpoints,_ he idly thought while rearranging the pens and pencils in the cup nearest his hip.  As Iruka furiously scribbled, Kakashi lifted his headband for a second to get a better look at the chunnin.  _His chakra’s disturbed - worried about Naruto no doubt … makes sense._

Iruka kept his head down, angrily transcribing notes from one folder to another, though when he spoke again, his voice was calm and even. “ANBU is backing up shinobi assigned to security details; everybody else is stockpiling items for the evacuation centers, or helping repair the damages after the village was attacked by--”

“Akatsuki attacked us? When did this--?”

“Not them …  another group of mercenaries … wanted to eliminate the Hokage … institute the Daimyo as supreme leader of the Land of Fire or some such nonsense.” Another half-finished form crumpled under Iruka’s fingers and bounced off the rim of the trash can beside his desk. “Turned a legion of zombies on us … damn near burned the village to the ground.”

“Undead armies … the Akatsuki… why is it nothing exciting happens until I leave the village?”  Holding up an unfinished paper clip chain for Iruka’s inspection, he went on to say, “Don't tell me, Tsunade kept you at your desk during all the fun didn't she … that’s why you’re such a sourpuss right now, isn’t it?”

“She didn’t… I was assigned to a security team during the attack.  Only reason I’m here today is because I volunteered,” he said, sliding the pen cup away from the obviously bored jounin.  “The job of coordinating the hospital’s logistical concerns fell to Shizune, so she’s crazy busy getting sites for remote triage stations sorted out and supervising emergency drills with the medics and, _oh, for heaven’s sake_ ,” he said, snatching away the lengthy paper clip chain woven by nervous hands.  “Do you mind?”

“Well I wasn’t finished with it… but go on,” came the impish reply from the grinning masked man.

“I’m one of the few chunnin available with a . . . _give me that please_ ,” he said reaching for the hand stamp Kakashi was currently toying with. “I’m authorized to receive and secure classified mission reports … like the one you should have with you,” he said extending his hand.

Kakashi grinned, staring down into the outstretched palm near his elbow. Having arranged the writing implements and paperclips Iruka hadn't snatched away into bawdy stick figures, he smiled saying, “You know … next to my favorite novels, nothing gives me as much pleasure as watching you clench your jaw -- like you're doing right now.”

Iruka gave him the side eye while relaxing his jaw.  “Your report, Kakashi-san … please.”

“I’d almost forgotten how much I like it when you spit and hiss at me.”  Capturing the tips of Iruka’s fingers, he said, “Let’s not be so hasty, Umino-sama.”

Unfazed, Iruka slid his fingers from the crushing grip.  “As usual, Kakashi-san, I'm appalled and puzzled by the things you find entertaining …I have no time for your games --”

"Don’t sell yourself short, you know I don't amuse myself with just anyone, Iruka,” he said standing to his feet.  “You should be honored.  Seriously though, I need to deliver this information to the Hokage --"

“Fine, just hand over your report and--”

“Sorry, I must insist on debriefing Lady Tsunade face-to-face. As for this written report,” he told him, patting one of the pockets of his flak vest, “it’s intended for her eyes only.”

Iruka reached for another folder. “Lots of luck tracking her down.  Ever since this mess with the Akatsuki started, her days are consumed in meetings with Ibiki, the Council and running back and forth to the hospital. When she isn’t doing that,” he frowned, briskly filling out another blank form, “she shuts herself off somewhere to read through the stacks of hourly dispatches from neighboring villages.”

Kakashi bent down, slowly reaching out both of his hands to cover the file before Iruka. “I’m willing to bet you know exactly where I can find her. After all, you have access to highly classified information like that. Or should I assume you’d like me to hang around and keep you company until she pops back into her office?”

"Give me a break,” he said, slowly prying those slender fingers from away from the folder. “Of course, I know where she is, but like me, she’s trying to get some work done.  Might I suggest you stop by the bathhouse first as the Hokage should be back in her office in about ninety minutes …  come back then.”

“I have a better idea,” he said, ratcheting the pen from the chunnin's hand.  “You tell me where I can find the Hokage right now and I’ll let you get back to your ‘happy place,’ you know, the stamping and sorting of papers.”

Iruka reached for another pen.

“Not only will you get me out of your hair, I might even consider erasing the lewd sketch that I left of you in the duty roster over there.”

Iruka’s eyes followed the gloved hand that had crept back onto the folder, up the mud-spattered sleeve, to the face partially concealed by a spotless blue mask and then beyond, to the clock over the front door.

“Try the hospital, third floor nurse’s station,” he said, removing Kakashi’s hand and straightening the edges of the crumpled pages.  “It’s time for rounds … she and the nurses are probably sitting around a fresh pot of coffee, going over patient status reports.”

Feigning disappointment, Kakashi rose slowly. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?  My goodness, Iruka-sensei, whatever happened to prompt, courteous customer service?”

“The demise of prompt, courteous customers,” was the snide remark Iruka directed toward his now disarrayed desk.  “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

Kakashi was halfway to the exit, chuckling to himself when Iruka called out:

“One more thing, Kakashi-san.”   

He turned to see the chunnin snappishly reordering his work space.  “Should you accidentally ‘forget’ to erase that drawing, please know that I _will_ hunt you down and curb stomp you."

“Such violent words, Iruka-sensei … always knew you were a man after my own heart.   Although, you really should brush up on your flirting skills.”

He ducked in time to avoid the flying cup, yet couldn’t escape the shards of ceramic and shower of pens that rained down just to the right of where he stood seconds earlier.

 _That’s more like it,_ he thought as he slammed the door behind him.

NOTES:

Tyro:  a beginner in learning anything; a novice.

Boscage: a mass of trees or shrubs; a wood, grove or thicket.

Chary: cautious or careful; wary.

August: venerable, eminent.

Pedantic: overly concerned with minute details or formalisms. 


	13. Concentric Circles

Concentric Circles: circles with a common center; sharing the same midpoint.

 

In exchange for the book he was reading earlier, Sai dug into his backpack in search of his inks and brushes.  “I’m having difficulty with this one, Yamato-taichou. The first five times I read through the information, it made no sense ... perhaps I missed something.  Can you explain it to me, sir?”

Taking the proffered book, Yamato first checked the spine.  “First, I didn’t think this was one I gave you. Second, I had no idea you enjoyed poetry, Sai--”

“Poetry?  I thought it was a training manual.  None of the instructions rhyme, so how could it be poetry?”

“Well, I guess you could look at as a training manual --”

“Hah!" Naruto snorted, "even I know poetry doesn’t have to rhyme.  And I also know you have to feelings to understand all that junk … or be a girl.”

"That’s not very nice," Sakura lazily protested.  "Least he’s doing something to improve his mind--”   

“Alright, Sakura … Naruto, that’s enough.  What say we act like a team ... try to answer Sai’s question together?”

“Geez,” Naruto whined., “this poetry stuff ... it’s not something mushy or perverted is it Captain Yamato?”

“Would you be serious? He’s not Kakashi-sensei; you oughta know he wouldn’t read something perverted to us, knucklehead.”

“Settle down and listen up. Pointedly clearing his throat he said, "Here we go:

_‘What entity, beholden to no man,_

_flows by like a river, ever moving forward,_

_ever propelled by its own momentum._

_Which marvel above the whole of creation carves out a path for itself,_

_polishes its sandy mattress and_

_makes smooth its rocky bed without anyone taking heed to its work?_

_And what entity, oh man,_

_like a womb, oversees the breeding and sustaining of life just_

_as quickly and quietly as it snatches it away?_

_If you find her and embrace her, beware,_

_be fully aware_

_she will ravage and rob you, leaving nothing behind but memories bittersweet._

_Cherish the lessons taught and lament her passing,_

_her instructions … preserve in the ears of those_

_who follow behind.’_

“Wow, that was beautiful,” Sakura said when she poked her head around the partition. “I didn’t understand it either, Sai and since Naruto is pretending to be asleep, can you tell us what means Captain Yamato?”

“Time . . . the poem is speaking of the fleeting nature of time,” he said with that slight smile of his that lifted one cheek and made his eyes twinkle. “Time . . . it heals all wounds, rights all wrongs and can repair the most grievous of breaches.”

“Speaking of which, I was supposed to meet Shizune ten minutes ago.  I’ll see you guys later, okay?”

Once she was gone and the room was quiet, Yamato pulled his chair to the bed.  “You know as far as this team goes, you were like a grain of sand inside an oyster; consistently irritating and something to be shed off as soon as possible.  But the longer you remain in place, Sai, something of great value will spring from the thing previously considered of little worth.”’

He wanted to be that ‘thing of value’ in the eyes of his team, yet Yamato-taichou neglected to answer the question of how long it would take to turn into a pearl, nor would he fully explain how best to go about bond building.  

_I should leave this matter for Kakashi-san - he is our senior team leader and Naruto says he’s very wise.  Perhaps he knows the answer._

**IGO     IGO     IGO     IGO     IGO**

_Time …_

For him and the village, time was of the essence and truth a commodity more precious than gold.

Caught up in his thoughts and plans for the next stage of Naruto’s training and concerns about the Akatsuki’s presence within their borders, Kakashi slunk along the winding corridor and down the silent stairs of the Hokage Tower. He gracefully sidestepped scattered knots of children playing in the dusty streets while their parents busied themselves with the mundane drudgeries of grocery or clothes shopping; all of them, blissfully unaware of the approaching danger. For every nameless face that smiled back at him and each person who bowed in gratitude for his steadfast protection, Kakashi’s self-esteem diminished slightly.  For every unfamiliar voice that called out to him from the doorways of their humble businesses, or the multitude of vendors who enticed him with savory foods or merchandise from their push carts– their acts of generosity and small tokens of trust elevated his anxiety and twisted the knife of unworthiness deeper into his gut.

The questions of how best to protect that which he held close . . . his village and her people; how best to honor the memory and keep safe the child of his late sensei –these things he found no answers for. As he plodded along, the entirety of his ruminations, a smattering of uncertainties and a thunderstorm of fears congealed into a thick, gooey mess which narrowed itself down to a single point . . . a single person:

_Sai._

While the other members of the team no longer questioned his ‘change of heart,’ there was something about it that never rang true in Kakashi’s mind; it was too spontaneous for it not to have been scripted.  Sai’s alleged defection from the Foundation was suspect as well – it was too clean, too final to be taken at face value.  The head of the Foundation wasn’t the sort of man who broke fellowship with any of his devoted followers willingly. And to ensure that not another one of his minions left the organization of their own choosing, Danzou was careful to place a cursed seal on his operatives, guarantying absolute loyalty to Foundation’s precepts and unequivocal silence about his machinations to ‘keep the village safe from harm.’

_Tenzou narrowly escaped being branded with that damned seal and as far as I know, he was the only person allowed to slip out of the Foundation’s clutches.  So, what would Danzou gain by granting Sai’s request to remain as a member of my team?_

There was a tiny part of him that understood Sai was what he was through no fault of his own - and though he’d been physically removed from interaction with the Foundation, there was no surety he was free of Danzou’s psychological influence.  _Was he planted here to monitor Naruto’s activities? Would he attempt another double cross that would ultimately deliver the Nine Tails to the Akatsuki?_

He turned aside, repulsed, and angered by his musings; ducking into an alleyway, his hands flew through the signs for a summoning jutsu.  No sooner than his palm slammed against the ground, a cloud of chakra smoke mushroomed upwards, concealing eight ferocious hounds, all of them yipping and snarling. “Find Tenzou,” he said over the noise of their enthusiastic barks.  “Tell him to meet me at my apartment at seven o’clock.”

Lazy wisps of smoke and small clouds of dust swirled over the ground, dancing in the air as the pack hastened to do his bidding.

Just as he thought to leave, his eye fell on a small brown pug sitting a couple of feet away.  Those wide, rheumy eyes, the color of ebony and three times as unyielding, peered into his very soul.  Shoving his hands in his pockets and leveling a fierce glare toward the grizzled face of the unimpressed mutt, he thought, _Damn it!  The one most sensitive to my moods, attuned to the variances of my temperament and most likely to subject me to lengthy interrogation.  Why did it have to be him?_

A gravel voiced query came from ground level, “Well?  What’s eatin’ at you, Kakashi?”

“I’m mystified ... see, I assigned a mission to eight ninja hounds; seven of them did as instructed and yet one defiantly stands before me.   Why is that?”

Pakkun cocked his head to the right, lazily scratching at his ear.  “You sent _them_ on an errand, I hung back because I know something screwy is going on with you--”

“Concern . . . duly noted as is your failure to carry out the assigned mission--”

“Figuring out what your problem is,” he said, rising to his stubby legs, “now that’s a mission worthy of my skill. I’ll ask again . . .  what the hell’s bothering you?”

“Aside from getting twenty pounds of attitude from a disobedient, eight pound talking dog?”

Pakkun moved deliberately - with his nose raised high in the air and teeth bared, he came closer to his summoner.  Kakashi found himself taking a step backward even as he maintained eye contact with the determined canine.

“You smell like old sweat socks and urinal cakes; your chakra . . . it’s all messed up.”

“Nothing a hot shower and a nap can’t fix, but you’re obviously getting senile in your dotage. Not only are you hard of hearing, your sense of smell is on the fritz too.  Maybe I should get you to the vet--”

“Don’t threaten or patronize me, sonny boy,” Pakkun growled when he dropped to his haunches. “I got no qualms about taking a chunk outta your leg.”

Man and beast stood their respective ground, silently sizing up one another as fair weather clouds filtered past the sun making long their shadows against the brick walled buildings.

“Either you tell me what’s going on or I’ll find Gai ...  tell him you’re itching for a challenge--”

“Do as you were told,” he said, turning his back on the fussed up canid.  Walking away from a fight he knew he couldn’t win, Pakkun’s words rang in his ears:

“Until you resolve whatever is digging in your craw, you won’t be able to dismiss me or my brothers!”

Standing at the alley’s mouth now, determining the best route that would take him far away from the diminutive know-it-all, he tried to ‘unhear’ the dog’s final words:

“We know where you live Kakashi … we know how to bypass the wards on your doors and windows.  There will be no escaping us . . .  or yourself!”

That truth made him quail for he knew whenever his chakra was tangled up, exercising control over the pack was impossible.  The thought of having a house full of restive dogs . . . some searching through  cupboards, pawing over and emptying out the paltry contents of his refrigerator while their nails clicked and scratched against the hardwood floors– these were a few more things he didn’t need to contend with just now.

 _First things first,_ he thought when he leapt from the street and onto the flat rooftop of the bakery.   _Debrief the Hokage and then head home …  a little time to settle my thoughts and calm my chakra, that’s what I need._

 


	14. Transversal 1.1

With the Akatsuki lurking about, Yamato divided his time between the hospital, a remote forest outpost and the ANBU barracks.  “I expect you know what to do ...try not to get caught,” he said slipping a small pouch under Sai’s pillows.  “I’ll check in with you tomorrow morning.”

With Sakura gone, the nurses not scheduled to visit for another hour, and his target unguarded, Sai sat on the side of the bed working out the most efficient way in which to handle the task before him.  His initial plan of attack, tweaked each time Naruto’s chest rose and fell; the plaster cast on his dominant arm posing the first of many obstacles. Idly running his fingers along its cool surface, he slowly eased the sling along the underside of the cast toward his elbow Unintentionally pushing the elastic material to the midpoint of his upper arm, he effectively choked himself when the cast tangled about his wrist and dropped into his lap.

 _Ambidexterity has its merits,_ he thought hurriedly rearranging the fabric.    _But this might ake longer than the time allotted.   I need to be far away enough where he can’t sense my presence, yet close enough so I can feel his breath on me._

He shot one last look at the closed door before slipping free of the bed linens and wandering to where the low stool sat by Naruto’s bedside.

Using his other hand for the job would force him to focus on the tiny details.  He set to work quickly, withdrawing the implement of necessity with care.  So wrapped up was he in his mission, he didn’t hear Sakura enter until it was too late.

“Sai, what the heck are you doing?”

“Oh … Sakura … I ... I’m only following instructions--”

“Instruc-- you get away from him right now!”

“I have to finish before he wakes up--”

“Idiot! You know he’s a wild sleeper so, why would you put yourself in harm’s way?   He’ll start tossing and turning, kicking and swinging, you’ll try to defend yourself and aggravate your injury.”

“But, Sakura, please ... if I don't do now, I'll never--”

The book hit the floor as Sakura snatched him up by the collar of his pajamas.  “What’s this?”

“One of my other books said ...the giving of handmade gifts is one way to build bonds with others and I thought --”

“For cryin' out loud, Sai."  She bent down for his sketchpad.  "Say, these are pretty good.  I thought you only did landscapes or other inanimate objects. Mind if I look through your sketches?”

“Actually, I do … these aren’t finished and--”

She flipped through the book despite his objections, smiling as she went. “There’s a lot of drawings of Captain Yamato and Naruto in here, none of me though.  Why?”

Concerned she’d beat him to a pulp if she found out she wasn’t his favorite subject, he lied, “I haven’t started on yours yet.”

“Well I think it’s a wonderful gesture; don’t be surprised if Naruto thinks you’ve got a crush on him.”

“Oh, no Sakura … I would never crush him.”

“Huh?  Yeah, yeah … back to bed you go.”

“What happened to your meeting with Shizune?”

“Missed her. Spent too much time with you guys and she left me.”

**IGO    IGO   IGO   IGO**

 

Sure enough, the Hokage was right where Iruka said she’d be . . .  sitting behind a borrowed desk, a cup of hot coffee in one hand, a pen in the other.  Positioning himself directly across from the nurse’s station, Kakashi leaned against the wall and drew out a draft copy of Jiraiya’s newest book; another torrid love triangle.  As the story reached a shocking reveal, suddenly, two flawlessly hefty objects obscured his view of the written characters as they overshadowed his book.  “Lady Tsunade.”

Her voice was throaty and teasing. “Didn’t it just kill ya when Junko’s secret lover turned out to be his aunt?”

“It might have … had I gotten that far.”

 “Really?" She shot him a skeptical look.  "Liar, I bet you laid wake for hours poring over that manuscript.”

“Nope, just started my first read through today, had to stay focused on a mission.”

“Sorry ‘bout that.  Come on, I got stuff to do.  I was beginning to wonder when you’d turn up,” she said with a tight smile.  “Jiraiya … did he come back with you?”

“Said he needed to gather more intelligence on his own--”

“Ah, so he's drunk somewhere, ogling young women ... typical.  It’s been absolutely nuts around here lately.”

“So I heard ... Iruka-sensei ... mission room.”

“Your debriefing will have to wait," she said as they eased out of earshot of the nurse’s station.  "I’ve got another half hour of work ahead of me here.”  Just then, a frazzled nurse slipped between them frantically waving a pen and a chart in Tsunade’s direction.  Heaving a frustrated sigh, she cut her eyes at the hapless woman while scratching out her signature.  “As you can see, we’ve had to shift civilian nurses from the clinics to help out. I spend half my day breaking up squabbles between them and the medic-nin; speaking of pissing contests, two members of your team were injured – one during that mission to the Fire Temple, the other when the village was attacked.   They’re sharing a room on the second floor--”

“What happened?”

“Calm down, it’s not that serious.  Sai had a dislocated shoulder, a broken arm and a few cracked ribs -- he’s responding well to the healing treatments, but we had a hell of a time with him at first.  You know how it goes - can take a guy out of ANBU, but you can’t take the ANBU out of the guy.  Naruto, on the other hand, suffered extensive internal damage after he and the Nine Tails went head to head … don’t ask,” she said waving off his concern.  “He’s recovering slower than usual, but he’ll be fine.”

“And Sakura . . .  she's all right?”

Another medic stopped them in their tracks, shoving another chart into Tsunade’s waiting hands.  “Good, I was just on my way to see him . . .  decrease his pain meds and monitor him closely,” she said to the relieved medic.  “As I was saying Kakashi, we’re short staffed, Sakura appointed herself as Sai and Naruto’s personal medic and chief head puncher.”

“What about Tenz . . . Yamato? Where’s he?”

“Somewhere in the village; Ibiki has him doing split shifts with ANBU.   This is my stop,” she said, standing outside a patient’s room. “Your team is in Room 215 – go, sit with them for a while. They could use a diversion and you could use a good laugh.   Don’t forget . . .  my office . . . forty-five minutes from now, “she said before quietly knocking and asking permission to enter the room to her right. “Don’t be late.”

Nodding his assent, he walked alone down the hall, bypassing the elevators in favor of the stairs. _Sai and Naruto . . . sharing the same small space . . . this is not going to be pleasant._

**IGO    IGO   IGO   IGO**

Though a partition kept him from seeing Naruto when he stepped inside the room, it did nothing to mask his chakra from the kid.  Naruto shouted his name as soon as he opened the door.

“Oh, thank god ... it is him,” Sakura said as she pulled back the privacy curtain.

“Captain Yamato said my training could start up again as soon as you got back … so later today, maybe?”

“And a pleasant afternoon to you too, Sai … Naruto, Sakura.”

Sai, whose bed was nearest the door, didn’t appear as banged up as he imagined based on Tsunade’s description.  His bed, tidy except for small mounds of books scattered here and there, looked more like a library, as did the table beside him; it too was covered with neat stacks of books, pamphlets and scrolls.  Leaning against the foot of the bed gave him an excuse to greet the young man properly as well as check out the book titles not hidden by the folds in the bedspread. From what he could see, most of the books dealt with developing interpersonal communication skills and how to improve one’s acceptance in social situations.

“Well,” he said, “looks like you’re on the path toward self-enlightenment.”

“Yes, sir,” the too pale young man quietly answered as he bowed his head politely and continued reading.

Seated on a low stool between their beds, Sakura abandoned the task of peeling apples to smile at him. “Thank goodness you’re back. These idiots are driving me crazy.”

He patted her on the shoulder as he passed by, quoting Iruka-sensei, “Thanks for your hard work, Sakura. You’re a brick --”

“Wish I had a brick,” she muttered under her breath as she sectioned one of the apples. “Then I could knock these chuckleheads unconscious … get a little peace and quiet around here.”

 “You just missed Captain Yamato,” Naruto told him. “Sai made him read poetry to us – isn’t that an ancient form of torture or cruel and unusual punishment?”

“Don’t think so,” he told the heavily bandaged, broadly grinning bundle of nervous energy.  “And by the way, don’t be in such a hurry to start training again.  What comes next will be intense … better rest up while you can.”

Naruto gave him the stink eye. “Humph,” he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest as he did so. “Well, can you at least see about getting me moved outta this room or getting me another roommate or something?”

“Hospital rule,” he shrugged his shoulders and laughed, “teams must be kept together whenever possible.  What’s the problem?”

“I can’t take another hour cooped up in here with . . . that one,” he said pointing in the creepily smiling Sai’s direction. “If he’s not reading stuff to me from one of those stupid books, he’s asking me stupid questions about my feelings.”

“Patience, Naruto . . . it’s key to a shinobi’s development --“

“That’s what you and Captain Yamato keep saying,  but you don’t know what he’s like--”

 “You’re right, I don’t. But come on," he whispered, "bear with him for the team’s sake. Looks like he’s trying real hard to adapt. In the meanwhile, focus on chilling out . . . let healing be your new mission.”

Kakashi could tell by the set of his shoulders, Naruto wasn’t interested in a damn thing he’d just said. _Ah well, that much hasn’t changed since we’ve been apart._

Turning about, he snagged a few slices of apple before Sakura caught wise.  “Listen up, I have to meet with Lady Tsunade and Captain Yamato.  I’ll be back to visit at some point.  Until then Sakura, I’m leaving you in charge of these two . . . don’t let ‘em strangle each other while I’m gone, alright?”

“And just who is supposed to keep me from strangling them?”


End file.
